


Pity

by MsOzma



Series: HSWC 2014 Fills [21]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M, Slavery, Whippings, and romantic as in i guess it's open to any quadrant?, the relationship can be seen as either friendly/platonic or as romantic, this is just a drabble, whatever is your preference man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-10
Updated: 2014-07-10
Packaged: 2018-02-08 06:16:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1929837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsOzma/pseuds/MsOzma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You were disgustingly sympathetic back then.  It practically makes you sick to think about.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pity

**Author's Note:**

> Fill based on this prompt:
> 
> "Dualscar/Psiioniic
> 
> Pet the Dog: This term was coined by cynical screenwriters, basically meaning: show the nasty old crank petting a dog, and you show the audience, aw shucks, he's all right after all. Often used to demonstrate that a Jerkass is really a Jerk with a Heart of Gold, or, if more limited, that the character is goal oriented rather than sadistic and/or thoroughly evil. If used as an Establishing Character Moment then you skip right past the jerkass phase.  
> Of course, this doesn't mean specifically petting a cute animal, but any sign of nobility within a morally ambiguous character."

37… 38… 39…  
  
“ _Aaaagh!_ ”  
  
“ _Can it, slave!_ ”  
  
You remember the moment like it had happened only yesterday. You were but a young sea dweller—only around 10 sweeps old—and relatively new to the seas. You had yet to ascend to the rank of a naval captain, let alone become a leading commander of the Imperial army. You still had much to learn then. You also had yet to become entirely cruel to those beneath, as they deserved to be treated. Your collapsing and expanding bladder based aquatic vascular system was still soft, and you were still capable of pitying others.  
  
Including a yellow blooded slave.  
  
“ _Nooo God please!_ ”  
  
“ _I said **can it**!_ ”  
  
What number lash was that? You remembered having trouble counting them out. Oh, yes, 45… 46…  
  
You honestly had no idea why you were bothering to count. Perhaps you felt you could do nothing else. Well…technically, you could have. Thinking back on it, you were a  _sea dweller_  serving under some nameless blue blood. According to the hemospectrum, you had way more power than he did, and could have easily stopped the whipping  _and_  claim the ship as your own in a handful of sentences. You had every right to kill him, and he had no right to do the same to you—not without being executed, at least.  
  
But at the time, all you felt you could do was count the lashings.  
  
… 53… 54…  
  
“That’s fifty-five,” your captain said, throwing the whip to the ground. “Let that be a lesson to you,  _gutterblood_.”  
  
The captain bit out that last remark, and you could see the yellow blood’s bipolarized, mutant eyes wince slightly at the remark (that, or he simply winced in pain). The captain then unchained the yellow blood from the mast, but not without spitting in his face first.  
  
“You’re just damn lucky you’re not a helmsman,” he remarked as he pulled the final cuff off of the slave, forcing the slave to fall hard on the deck face first. He was obviously delirious with pain.  
  
With his job done, the captain walked away, leaving the slave laying on the floor practically shaking with pain. It would have been better for you to have walked away and continued your duties—clean the deck and what-not. And even when you think back to the event, you feel it would have been better to have ignored it all together.  
  
But your feelings got the better of you.  
  
You hurriedly hushedly walked over to the yellow blood, and very tenderly grabbed his shoulder. Even with using the utmost care to grab him, the mutant slave still inhaled sharply with pain at your touch.  
  
“I’m sorry,” you blurted out. “I’m just…trying to help ya out.”  
  
“Save…” he breathed out, still in incredible pain. “Save… your fucking…  _pity_.”  
  
You bit your lower lip. “Being proud ain’t gonna get you  _anyvwhere_ , chief.”  
  
Being as gentle as possible, you then raised his arm—him groaning in agony—and put it around your shoulder.  
  
“Don’t fucking…  _touch me!_ ” he scowled.  
  
“You need somevwhere soft to lay on,” you continued, ignoring his protests. Then, as gently as possible (as you had been trying to be the entire time), you attempted to lift him up. In his stubbornness, however, he remained completely rigid. Sighing, you spoke out your disdain for his actions. “Come on. Help me help you.”  
  
“ _No,_ ” he spit. “I’m not…letting some  _high blood_   _GRAAAAAAGGH!!!_ ”  
  
You stopped your objective to be as gentle as possible and used the full extent of your strength to lift him up. Then, with him yelping in pain with every step, you began dragging him with his arm over your shoulder.  
  
“Could havwe made it easy on yourself,” you stated defensively, even though you knew he was in no condition to attack you. “ _Especially_  vwhen I’m just trying to help.”  
  
With a look in his mutated eyes that seemed to be a mix betweeb both defiant  _and_  resigned, he spoke again. “Who… the  _fuck_  do you think you are!?”  
  
This was far in the past, before you had been called the name “Orphaner Dualscar.” Before you were considered anyone even slightly important, save for the fact that you were a sea dweller. You still used your regular name then.  
  
Smirking at him, you replied. “Cronus. Cronus Ampora. And your name?”  
  
Yelping again in pain as you had to step down a flight of stairs, he mumbled something incoherently.  
  
“ _Vwhat?_ ” you asked, confused.  
  
“ _MITUNA!!!_ ” he screeched as you stepped off the final step, and he groaned in pain again. “Mituna… Mituna Captor.”  
  
You did not smirk then. Instead, you gave him a smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Mituna. Though I vwish it could havwe been under different circumstances.”  
  
His gaze flitted to you, a softness within it. As if what you had said had sincerely touched him. As if he was moved by the possibility that you actually saw him as a  _person_.  
  
And perhaps you did then. Though looking back, you can’t help but feel disgust at your sympathetic collapsing and expanding bladder based aquatic vascular system.


End file.
